Chapter 19

Dean had been seriously impressed with Dr. Banner's lab the few times he'd seen it, but it had absolutely nothing on Tony Stark's lab.

Holy shit, it was like Dean had had time traveled (again) and woken up fifty years in the future. The stainless steel work tables were familiar, but the grand machines, holographic screens lining the walls, robots whirling around the epoxied floor, and the Iron Man suit hanging in its casing were all things straight out of a sci-fi movie.

He whistled, putting his hands on his hips and spinning around in a slow circle, taking everything in. He had to say he was surprised. When meeting the mad genius that was Tony Stark, Dean had expected his personal space to be as chaotic and filled to the brim as his brain was. But no, everything in the lab was perfectly organized, down to the smallest screwdriver and wrench.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Steve leaned over and whispered, his blue eyes glowing with fascination. Dean guessed that after growing up in the forties, a place like this would never get old.

"Sure is," he agreed easily. Back to the Future had been one of his favorite series growing up, back when he could successfully convince Sammy to watch something other than the scary shit that he liked, like the Exorcist.

Dean's skin still burned with an ache to be closer to the First Blade, but Stark had clearly been smart enough to hide it elsewhere. It wasn't nearby, so Dean was able to actually think straight for the time being.

Stark rambled away about the different areas of his lab, talking specifically to Reid, who was just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as the time they explained that the supernatural really did exist. Sam was listening intently too, though his eyes kept straying back to the Iron Man suit every few seconds. Which, Dean had to admit, was pretty freaking cool. They weren't in the business of playing nice with superheroes everyday, so when he actually took the time to see something like that, Dean was sure as hell going to be impressed.

And Bucky knew it too, judging by the smirk ghosting his lips. Dean rolled his eyes and shoved the super soldier away, his own strength ensuring his new friend staggered a few feet away with a sharp laugh.

"If we're all done with playtime," Stark mused with a popped brow. "You can all check over the weapons I had brought in. Everything's laid out, and the crates in the corner have the ammunition we discussed.'

Sam, Dean, Hotch, Reid, the STRIKE team, and the Avengers all spread out around the lab where Stark directed them to, explaining the guns, knives, silver and iron bullets, arrows, and cleavers he designed for their upcoming battle.

"I thought you didn't make weapons anymore," Sam commented lightly, looking through the scope on one of the automatic rifles.

Stark shrugged, busying himself with a hologram he had pulled up. "Stark Industries doesn't make weapons anymore, you're right. I don't trust other people with my designs, period. But considering the fact that we have an army of monsters that will pop up somewhere soon, I'd rather not take any chances." He frowned and turned around, as if a thought just occurred to him. "Winchester! I have a bone to pick with you."

Dean and Sam shared a look, a few of the other Avengers listening in as well. "Which one?" Dean asked.

The billionaire waved an irritated hand. "Either. Both. Listen, I was looking through your stash, you know, the one you keep holed up in the Impala?"

They both nodded warily, mentally cataloguing all of their weapons in an attempt to figure out where he was going with this.

Stark threw both hands in the air and huffed in frustration. "Well why were you working with such outdated guns? I'm surprised you managed to hit anything you shot at with such shoddy workmanship!"

"Dude," Dean sorted, shaking his head. "Do you even hear yourself? It's not like we could use anything made by SI back in the day."

"Well, why not?" Stark sputtered in indignation, looking back at Steve and Bucky for backup. Both super soldiers looked pleasantly amused. "I know for a fact that anything I made was, and continues to be, the best on the market!"

Sam didn't try and cover up his laugh. "Tony, of course yours are the best, there's no denying that. But that's the problem."

Stark scowled, "I don't understand, and I hate not understanding."

"We can't modify anything of yours," Dean explained to put him out of his misery. "Your stuff's too good. I made my first sawed-off shotgun when I was twelve, you really think I could have done that with something you designed?"

Surprise, and then a flash of something unreadable rippled across Stark's expression, but when Dean blinked, it was gone. Stark sniffed with the haughty arrogance that he'd come to expect from the billionaire. "Of course not. My designs are bulletproof. You can try taking them apart, but you won't be able to put them back together again correctly."

"Exactly," Sam agreed with a grin. "That's why we never used anything of yours." He glanced down at the rifle in his hand, "Well, maybe Dean and I can take a few of these off your hands when we're done here."

"I think that can be arranged," Stark allowed before gesturing for Dean to join him in front of the hologram he had pulled up. "You said you built your own weapon?"

Dean blinked in surprise, but gave a small nod. "Yeah, rock salt is pretty damn effective when gankin' ghosts, and there was a haunting at the motel Sammy and I were staying at. Had to think of something fast."

Stark kept his eyes on the hologram, not turning to address him. "And where was your pops while you were fighting off a ghost all by yourself?"

"On a hunt," he answered, defensiveness creeping up between his shoulder blades. Dean wasn't an idiot, and he was more perceptive than most people gave him credit for. He was perfectly aware of how people viewed his dad, but that didn't mean that Dean could agree with them outright. Yeah, John Winchester was an asshole - and had been for his and Sammy's entire childhood, but he was still his dad. "I was old enough, I could handle it fine on my own."

"You were twelve," Stark countered sharply. He then waved off the sudden hostility with a flourish. "What else did you build?"

Dean had to think about it for a moment. "My EMF Meter came in pretty handy."

Stark finally met his gaze, a hint of interest lighting up his eyes. "An electromagnetic field meter? Explain."

"When there's a type of paranormal activity, like when a ghost is present, it has an effect on the magnetic fields of the area. I made mine out of an old walkman that I nicked from a dude who was bugging a girl in a park when I was seventeen." Dean's lips twitched upwards at the memory. "Saved my ass when we ran into a vengeful broad two weeks later."

"Hmmm," Stark hummed, watching him closely before clapping him on the back. "After this, I'm going to pick that brain of yours apart. We'll see if we can't set up a new line of devices for fellow hunters. Don't want you guys dying off just because they're not as smart as you and your brother."

Dean stared back at him in awe as the billionaire turned on his heel and walked away. What the hell was that?

When everyone returned their attention back to their weapons, Dean felt Hotch's presence at his shoulder. "A word?"

Dean followed him easily to the small kitchenette Stark had installed in his lab, away from the others. "What's up?"

His friend examined him for a few moments before speaking softly. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. Earlier in the gym it seemed like you were having trouble, and then again when Crowley returned with the First Blade."

Dean swallowed thickly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "I'm fine."

"You're always fine," Hotch shot back with a chuckle. "But I'm worried, Dean. I know this must be overwhelming for you."

He thought back to the myriad of emotions he experienced in the last twenty-four hours, and his mini-meltdown in front of Bucky and Wilson. "It is," Dean admitted with a sigh. Hotch had always been one encouraging open communication, and Dean couldn't pretend it didn't help. "But Wilson actually helped get my head screwed back on straight earlier. Did you know that he was a counselor for veterans before he was an Avenger?"

"I did," Hotch nodded, leaning back against the marble countertops. "I read the Avengers' files when I visited SHIELD with Agent Coulson. I take it that's why Sargeant Barnes brought him to speak with you?"

"Yeah, he actually agreed to keep meeting with me when all of this is over," Dean told him warily. He never liked the idea of therapy. If he ever tried to describe even a single detail about his life, it would only be a matter of time before they locked him up in a room with four padded walls. Doctors, therapists, and counselors wouldn't - couldn't begin to understand.

Except Wilson, apparently.

An Avenger. One of 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes.' Go figure.

Dean still wasn't sure about everything, but he really did feel better after speaking with him and Bucky upstairs. He owed it to himself to at least try, right?. "We're going to set up a schedule," Dean explained. "Over the phone, since Sammy and I aren't planning on sticking around New York for too long."

Hotch clapped a hand on his shoulder with a soft smile resting on his lips. "I think that's excellent, Dean. Your mental health deserves some attention after everything you've been through, and this is a wonderful next step."

Dean tucked his chin down, fighting the blush crawling up his cheeks. Hotch was always looking out for him, encouraging him. He really didn't deserve such a devoted friend.

Before he could say anything to the contrary, Dean heard Peter's high-pitched shout of surprise coming from the lab. He took off without hesitation with Hotch hot on his heels.

And who else could have been the reason for the sudden hiked tension in the lab other than freakin' Lucifer, who was grinning like a lunatic, still wearing Cas as a meatsuit.

His arms were crossed as he leaned against one of Stark's hot rods, the beet red Flathead Roadster with flames dancing along the sides, and patiently waited for everyone to crowd around him.

"Lucifer," Sam hissed by Dean's side, being sure to shield Reid as much as he could from the devil's view, while Steve and Bucky did the same for Peter.

"Miss me?" Lucifer beamed, unraveling so that the object in his hand became visible. It looked like rusted bone, curved in a strange semi-circle until it dissolved into a pointed tip. "Looks like you've been busy, boys. I see you're back in fighting shape, Dean."

Dean grit his teeth, his hand flexing like he was missing a limb. "That's what you wanted, right?"

"Too right," he agreed, chuckling low beneath his breath. "It was a fair trade, wasn't it? Me building an army while you just fix what you broke."

"We didn't break anything," Dean growled, familiar anger stirring within his chest. "Cas was just trying to help me!"

Sam stepped forward, pulling Lucifer's attention away from Dean. He refused to acknowledge that he was grateful for his brother's interference. "So you were successful, then? The angels will help?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I managed to convince about thirty of the little bastards to join our cause, yes. The others were cowards. Not that there are many of them left, mind you."

"Thirty angels?" Steve asked, placing his hands on his hips. "Will that be enough?"

"It will be with the small army of demons I've recruited," Lucifer jeered, then held up his hand, displaying the strange object for them to see clearly. "But more importantly, I found what I was looking for."

"And what is that, exactly?" Dean challenged, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

Lucifer twirled it around in his fingers expertly. "The Horn of Joshua, of course. You two really haven't done your research, have you? This bad boy was touched by the big man himself, and it was imbued with a fraction of his power. That, plus the power I'll receive from our peons on the battlefield, will make me virtually unstoppable."

Dean caught Bucky's gaze from across the room, dread sinking into his bones. Anything they could do to defeat Amara was helpful, yeah, but the idea of Lucifer having that much power when this was all over...it made Dean's stomach churn. They wouldn't be able to rest until Lucifer was thrust back into his cage, and they couldn't even begin to worry about that until Amara was dealt with.

Shit.

"You ready to do your part, Dean-o?"

"My part?" Dean repeated with a furrowed brow, leaning backwards when Lucifer stepped towards him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Lucifer just grinned, too wide and with too many teeth. "Keep up! I'm going to need someone to command the demons while I lead the angels into battle."

The Mark's steadily increasing fissures directly beneath his skin suddenly flared up in mouth watering anticipation. Yes. That's what it needed, what it craved. Encouraging Dean to kill was one thing, but him leading a hoard of demons into a sure-to-be bloody war against monsters? The curse sang with a flurry of yesyesyes, causing Dean to stumble at the unexpected rush of endorphins.

"I knew you'd be the perfect choice," Lucifer said with a hungry look. Once he had his fill of staring at Dean for much too long, he returned his attention to the others. "Don't you worry, they'll fall in line to protect their own skin from me. Who else will be fighting with us?"

Steve cleared his throat, although not before shooting Dean an uneasy frown. "The Avengers, including myself, Iron Man, The Winter Soldier, Thor, Falcon, Dr. Strange, War Machine, Black Widow, Spider-Man, and Hawkeye. SHIELD's STRIKE team" he gestured towards the five men still dressed head to toe in black, "will also be joining us."

"Dr. Banner, Agent Hotchner, and Dr. Reid will remain here at the tower to assist me with the command center." Coulson explained with his same disinterested expression, though the twitch of his fingers by his side gave away his nervousness. Dean had to commend him though, being brave enough to speak to the devil earned him a few points as far as he was concerned.

Lucifer snapped his hand against the Roadster, earning him a sharp glare from Stark that went unnoticed. "Sounds like a party!" He turned towards Sam and tilted his head to the side, and Dean wanted to strangle him for looking so much like Cas in that moment. "And you, Sammy-boy? Are you going to play toy-soldier too?"

"I'm not leaving Dean's side," Sam snarled with finality.

It didn't help the tension in the room when Lucifer's lips stretched into another grin. The exact opposite, in fact, as nobody was comfortable with the literal devil being so clearly pleased. "That's what I like to hear."

"Sir," JARVIS interrupted hesitantly. "There has been an alert within the program that scans for CMB."

Stark sucked in an intake of breath, which everyone in the room seemed to mimic.

This was it.

"Give me details, J."

"It seems as though the radiation was detected in New York City. Satellites show a small army of upwards of three-hundred within Central Park, near Fifth and Madison."

Stark's head snapped towards Sam, Dean, Hotch, and Reid. "I thought Amara was going to stay local, what the hell is she doing all the way over here?"

Lucifer barked out another laugh. "You really thought she was going to show up somewhere else? Her plaything is here. She's not planning on leaving New York without him."

Every eye in the room twisted towards Dean, who felt dread churn within his stomach. Shit, how did he not realize that's what Amara wanted? She was going to destroy one of the most populated cities in the United States just to get to him.

Fuck.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Steve ordered, standing tall and commanding as he looked around the room, being sure to capture each of his soldiers' eyes. "We know where Amara is now, and we're prepared to stand against her. Suit up."

Dean and Sam looked at each other with matching expressions of sheer determination.

It was time to end this.

XX

The sky had opened up, flooding the streets and obscuring the windshields of the caravan of SUVs transporting them to Central Park.

Dean and Sam were dressed in all black tactical gear, thick but breathable waterproof material made out of reinforced kevlar, according to Stark. They had each been given a comm unit to place in their ear to keep lines open between the parties, and Dean tapped it once as they approached the drop zone.

"Remember, Sam and I go in first. We'll head off the demons and wait for Lucifer to call the angels. When we're all set, the Avengers and STRIKE team can follow in behind us. Our goal is to get through her army of monsters to reach Amara. These creatures are out for blood, so don't hesitate to go for the kill just like we taught you."

"Roger that," Steve agreed, his voice steely and focused. "Spider-Man, Falcon, and Strange will be in charge of the civilian evacuations. War Machine will find the officers on duty and set up a perimeter."

Dean snorted, shaking his head in ill-timed amusement. "New Yorkers, man. Not even a supernatural storm can keep these stubborn bastards off the streets."

"That's us, stubborn as all get-out," Stark mused from his position above them in his suit. "Heads up - there's a crowd of some shady looking people gathering up ahead. I repeat, shady looking people with some serious resting bitch faces waiting for us just ahead."

The SUV carrying Sam, Dean, Steve, Bucky, and Romanoff screeched to a halt and they all filed out quickly with their weapons raised, splashing into puddles atop the asphalt. A few hundred yards away, Iron Man was depositing Hawkeye on top of a building for a better bird's-eye view while the other flyers began searching the area for pedestrians in the immediate area. The STRIKE team pulled up behind them and Thor touched down beside Steve as the Avengers fanned out before the growing horde of demons.

Lucifer appeared in a flutter of wings, Cas' trench coat whipping behind him with the heightened wind speeds. While everyone else looked stony and determined, Lucifer's expression was much too bright as he addressed the newcomers. "Right on time. Good. Let's call the others, shall we?" He reached a hand up to the sky and fixed his attention upwards. A fierce glow shone behind his eyes, and the light steadily began outlining his figure like a silhouette.

The next second, brilliant shooting stars began falling from Heaven, descending onto a grassy plain a few feet away with a harsh crack. The light dimmed and the sudden flames melted into thick smoke to reveal thirty angels, all carrying their angel blades menacingly. Their backs were ramrod straight as their eyes fell on Lucifer and the demons with unmistakable disdain.

"Now that we're all accounted for…" Lucifer drawled, throwing his hands out to his side, the horn of Joshua hidden in his trench coat. "In case any of you worthless assholes have been missing out on any of the action for the past few years, this is Sam and Dean Winchester."

Whispers broke out within each of the groups. Dean shifted uncomfortably at the attention and ignored the looks the Avengers shot at him.

"Yeah," he grinned. "That Sam and Dean Winchester. As I explained before, Auntie Amara is free from her chains and ready to destroy everything we know, including Heaven and Hell. I know we all hate each other, but it's time to set your issues aside and fight for your homes, boys and girls. After Amara is dead, you can go right back to killing each other. I promise." He finished off his little speech with a deranged laugh that just sounded wrong.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment to gather his nerves and let the Mark thrum in tune with the beat of his heart. He could do this. He had to. He would ensure that Lucifer got close enough to kill Amara, and then he would do everything in his power to expel him so that he could get Cas back. The First Blade spasmed in his hand as if reminding him of its presence. Right. As soon as Lucifer was in another body, safely away from Cas, Dean wouldn't hesitate to rip him apart. He wasn't sure if his weapon would be enough to kill an archangel, but the confidence he felt from the Blade might be a good indicator.

One way or another, all of this would end today.

The thunder boomed above them, lightning painting the sky.

He brought himself up to his full height and tightened his grip on the First Blade, allowing the Mark to slowly, but surely, take over his consciousness. As the familiar pinpricks of power settled at the base of his neck, he felt sharper, more focused, and infinitely more dangerous. When Dean opened his eyes again, blinking away the raindrops from his eyes, the angels and demons had fallen quiet around him. From their expressions, it was obvious that they'd been able to witness his subtle transformation, the sheer strength the Mark possessed causing even immortal creatures to shrink away in fear.

Good.

"I'll lead the demons to the front line," he boomed, ensuring everyone could hear him over the storm. "We'll spread out to cover the most ground, and then Lucifer will lead in the angels behind us to fill the gaps. The Avengers and STRIKE team will fall in on our heels to finish off any stragglers that managed to get through our defenses. Use the weather to our advantage. Fight dirty, and always go for the kill. They might not be able to kill you outright on their own, but I can promise that even one hit from one of those bastards will shut you down long enough for something else to come along and finish you off. I wouldn't put it past Amara to have given her army a way to dispose of angels and demons as a precaution." He paused and waited for the others to give their nods of acknowledgment before continuing. "When we find Amara, do whatever is necessary to clear a path for us. When she's taken care of, everything else will fall."

Finally, he let out a deep breath and eyed them all once last time. "It's time."

XX

Pandemonium ensued.

Amara's monsters were vicious and barbaric, snarls and howls tearing out of their throats as Dean and the demons crashed into them with a war cry. The First Blade sang with euphoria as Dean hunted down his prey. He had seven different kills below his belt within the first three minutes of the battle, leaving a trail of bodies slumped in the mud within his wake.

The demons were dealing a significant amount of damage so far, but Dean had been right - Amara had supplied the more intelligent monsters with angel blades, capable of killing either of Dean's army of allies. How she got her hands on so many of them was a mystery, all that mattered was that the stakes had been raised.

The angels fell in line with their own weapons, taking on the monsters with the same righteous anger Dean knew Cas was capable of. Screams and shouts of surprise and pain could be heard above the rumbling thunder as both sides took considerable losses.

Lucifer was a force to be reckoned with. Dean remembered absently that he was God's favorite son, the second strongest behind Michael, and even Michael couldn't survive being trapped inside the Cage with Lucifer. Thousands of years of pent up rage were being unleashed before Dean's very eyes, and it was a sight to behold. The archangel was devastating as he plowed through the monsters with more skill and efficiency than Dean had been expecting. Only carnage and mutilated bodies were left behind with his advance.

Between one flash of lightning and the next, Dean was fighting beside the Avengers and STRIKE team as well. Arrows soared onto the scene, piercing the hearts of a cell of vampires that made their move towards Dean and Sam, who had appeared at his elbow after a particularly nasty wendigo attacked. The brothers didn't hesitate to cut off their heads before tearing apart a djinn that had managed to ensnare Thor and Natasha in a dangerous trance.

Dean provided cover for them to recover while Sam moved to fight back to back with Bucky as he unloaded his rifle into the new wave of monsters. When Natasha was back on her feet, she gave him a sharp nod and fell right back into battle, and Thor grunted in frustration before lifting his hammer to the sky and calling forth a few thousand volts of electricity to unleash onto his enemies.

Fuck, that was cool.

He was reminded that he was fighting beside literal superheroes. Damn.

The Mark crowed in victory as blood was shed all around him.

Spider-Man swung through the Central Park trees, moving civilians away from the action and webbing up and slowing down the creatures that tried to use their speed to their advantage. He was unsurprisingly agile as he brought down a pair of wendigos with his webbing long enough for Iron Man to finish them off with a flamethrower he kept in his arsenal.

Dr. Strange teleported between various positions inside the battlefield, a ring of golden flecks trailing behind him as he delivered people to safety and cast protective magic on Dean's allies.

Steve was in full Captain America mode - throwing his shield into the crowd with absurd precision and incapacitating five skinwalkers in one move. He launched it again, bashing it against a djinn who had Rumlow in a trance, and propelling it off of a tree. Dean was close enough to push off the balls of his feet and catch the shield mid-air with his left hand. He brought it protectively around his body and crouched in front of Rumlow to keep him safe while he recovered with a huff of irritation. When the STRIKE team leader clapped him on the shoulder in thanks before reloading his weapon, Dean sprinted towards Steve and tossed the shield back to him.

Steve praised him on a job well done, and Dean understood why the Avengers followed the man into battle without question.

While the demons and angels took the brunt of the action, the others weren't immune to the feral attacks from the monsters. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched a vampire tear Davis' throat out with her razor sharp teeth, and the ensuing gushing blood was potent enough to attract three others. They ended up fighting each other in an effort to feed from Davis' limp body until Bucky and Dean tore their heads off.

Dean's stomach churned with guilt as he looked down at the man's mangled form. The two teams were only fighting this war because Amara wanted him, which meant that it was his fault Davis was dead. Fuck. He grit his teeth when a metal fist punched lightly at his shoulder.

"You okay?"

Dean grunted, swallowing back his brief moment of inattention. "Fine."

Bucky nodded, then switched weapons and moved back towards the action. Dean followed him without a second thought, hell bent on getting to Amara.

XX

The savage taste of anarchy and power thrummed within Dean's veins as the First Blade sunk into the wendigo's heart, the monster's gnashing teeth - close enough to fight off a gag at the rancid breath - slowing down until its entire body slumped heavily in his grip.

Dean shoved the beast down towards the wet gravel with a snarl, the heavy rain washing blood away from the blade as if grasping and pleading for a strange kind of purity before the next kill. He swallowed down the overwhelming urge to surrender his mind to the battle and forced himself to focus, gaze snapping up to hunt for Amara through the disarray.

After about forty seconds and two additional kills, his hungry eyes fell on their prey. There - Amara, soaking wet in her too-tight black dress, was slipping through the thick wooden doors of an evacuated white stone church.

Lucifer must have noticed as well, because he let out a string of incoherent mutterings and bulldozed through the war carrying on around them, hacking his angel blade through a vampire's neck who got in his way and reaching out a hand to smite a djinn that got too close. Dean checked his surroundings and yelled at those closest - Sam, Bucky, Rumlow, and Rollins.

"Get to the church!" He shouted over the next wave of thunder as the rain beat down onto his face, making sure to tap a finger against the comm unit in his ear to alert the others. Dean blinked a few times to clear his vision and reached for the gun tucked into the back of his waistband. Two skinwalkers shifted into monstrous grizzly bears before his eyes and roared, charging for him at a frightening speed and tearing up the grass beneath their razor-sharp claws, but Dean swiftly took aim and brought them down with two perfect headshots, the holes between their eyes smoking from the silver bullets.

"Be careful Dean," Hotch warned through the comms. "The others are fighting through the masses, but don't do anything stupid."

It took another few minutes, but he and the others closest to him were finally able to follow Lucifer and Amara through the thick doors into a brief reprieve from the downpour outside. He had both the gun and the blade raised in defense, Sam and Bucky at his back on high alert with the two STRIKE team members on their heels.

It was dim, the overhead lights knocked out from the steadily worsening storm, with only a cluster of candles at the altar casting a muted glow on the sanctuary. The pews were strewn haphazardly around the room and one of the stained glass windows was shattered, letting in pellets of rain and cracks of lightning. Amara stood tall and powerful on the steps, a wicked smile darkening her expression as the shadows danced at her back. Lucifer was a few yards ahead of Dean, letting out a manic peal of laughter in his bloodied suit and trench coat.

"Wow, you really like to come prepared, don't you?" He gestured back towards the newcomers, his eyes alight with vicious excitement while his voice echoed through the empty air. "I knew it would be one hell of a fight, and we haven't even gotten to the main event yet!"

"Report. Anyone inside, requesting an immediate update." Agent Coulson ordered. Dean ignored him, but he saw Bucky switch on his body camera out of the corner of his eye.

"I have no quarrel with you, nephew," Amara hissed, eyebrows drawn together. "Go home and perhaps I'll spare your life. No one will keep me from either of my prizes tonight."

"You were safely sealed away," Lucifer taunted, biting his lip while dangling the Horn of Joshua in his hand like a bullfighter. "You're going to wish you stayed there."

Dean risked shuffling forward a few steps, edging around Lucifer while every muscle in his body tightened in apprehension. "What's the game plan here, Amara?" He asked with a rough voice. It was difficult being this close, more difficult than he imagined. His brain felt muddled, like a haze was slowly descending. "You planning on gankin' your brother if he shows up?"

Suddenly Amara's attention was fixated solely on Dean, her body turning towards him as she took one step down the small array of stairs. It was like a shock to his nerves, causing his skin to crawl and heat in response. "My brother needs to answer for what he's done, Dean, can't you see that?" She prompted, her dark eyes beseeching and words strained.

"He locked me away for billions of years, all alone, turning me into this...this...monster!" She spat. "And for what? For these humans? They are worthless, pathetic, ants! I was his family, how could he betray me like that without a second thought?"

Dean didn't notice his arms slowly lowering during her speech, completely transfixed on her words. They resonated with him, mulling around in his chest as his mind sparked in agreement. He also didn't notice the others moving steadily closer while she was distracted.

"Family means everything to you, doesn't it, Dean?"

He grunted and then swallowed thickly, trying to bring his brain back online. "You know it does," he ground out with more effort than he would have liked. "But me and my family are those worthless, pathetic ants you were just ravin' about."

She shook her head with a frown touching her lips. "Not you, Dean. Never you. We are connected, and you could never be like them. You are mine!"

"I don't know where you got that ridiculous idea," he told her honestly, throwing his hands, still clutching his weapons, out to the side in exasperation. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm human, Amara. I'm skin and bone and have a laundry list of defects working against me, and if I don't get killed on some random hunt then my shitty liver's going to finish me off. Whatever it is that you think I am, you're wrong."

Amara breathed out through her nose in a sign of clear annoyance, her slim shoulders following the movement sharply. "You were not always human, Dean Winchester, and you certainly won't be when this life comes to an end. That is what the Mark does, beloved, it brings us together so that neither of us will ever have to be alone. We are meant to be one."

It was like all of the air was suddenly sucked out of Dean's lungs by a sharp kick to the gut. He faltered in his stance, taking a hesitant step back in surprise. "What?"

"What is she talking about?" Dr. Banner asked through the comms, sounding frayed at the edges.

"That's why you were the one to free me, Dean," Amara implored, sensing his weakness. "The Mark connects us, like I said. It brought you to me so that we could tear down the barrier that separated us! There will be nothing that can stand in our way once you are mine."

Dean blinked a few times and used the back of the hand that was holding his gun to rub at his forehead. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. He exchanged a bewildered glance with Sam, who was at Bucky's side as they drew closer to Amara, and huffed out a frustrated breath through gritted teeth. "No."

She tilted her head to the side, reminding Dean so much of Cas in that moment that his heart ached. "What do you mean, no?"

"Do you want to hear it in Spanish?" He raged, suddenly furious as the dam broke. "No! For the last damn time, I didn't free you! My boyfriend got a witch to do a spell and it busted the Mark on my arm, which is what loosened the chains of your prison. That's how you got out."

Dean shook his head. "And at first I was excited, you know? Finally cut loose from the damned curse that had been steadily destroying my life. But no, it sure as hell didn't last long because you had to go and power up for your big one on one against God! Damnit, Amara, with every single soul you took, I grew weaker. I was dying until Rowena did the spell earlier to restore the Mark. You were literally killing me, and you want me to believe that you, what? Own me? Control me? Love me?"

He threw his head back and a dangerous, cruel laugh tore from his throat. "That isn't love," Dean swore, returning his bright, vehement gaze back on her. "Love is fierce. Love is having your soul ripped wide open and raw with your whole heart on display and knowing that everything you are and ever could be is handed over like a fucking gift to someone who will unwrap you gently and then put you back together again." He knew he was shouting, tears burning at the corner of his eyes, but he couldn't help it. She needed to understand. "There is only one person one this goddamn planet that has ever done that for me, and it wasn't you, Amara. You don't love me, you never have."

Dean's chest rapidly rose and fell as he panted, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he watched realization slowly dawn on Amara's face. She seemed surprised at his words, trying to deny the truth to them. And then unmistakable anger rippled through her expression. Her jaw tightened and coils of shadows twisted around her white-knuckled grip, like a volcano bubbling to the surface.

"You are so desperate to believe that, Dean Winchester," she seethed, low, dangerous and deadly. "But fine. Have it your way."

She erupted in a mass of darkness and ferocious chaos, her scream reverberating within the fragile stone walls.

The others descended upon her.

Sam, Bucky, Rumlow, and Rollins opened fire in an explosion of bullets and gunfire while Lucifer began sucking in the power from the Horn of Joshua, white flames responding to the holy object.

Amara choked on a howl of anguish as her body was flung forward onto the cracked tile from the unrelenting blast. Dean threw himself out of the line of fire and dropped his gun with a curse. He scrambled up to his feet, one hand with a death grip on the First Blade as he watched the barrage slowly come to an end.

Despite her eerie stillness, he wasn't foolish enough to believe that The Darkness could be destroyed so easily, by human weapons nonetheless. Dean found himself shaking with dread as Lucifer moved in swiftly with an echoing roar, bringing his blinding, powered-up angel blade high above his head before swinging it down towards her heart with absolute precision, enveloping Amara in a burst of light.

As it pierced her skin, enraged shadows shot upwards from her core, whipping into a frenzy and coiling like thick, meaty tentacles, engulfing the Horn's power and throwing everyone but Dean back twenty feet and slamming them into the stone walls. Amara shuddered and convulsed as the bullet wounds littering her body gradually began stitching themselves back together again. She remained on her knees and turned her glare of sheer hatred onto Lucifer.

Dean's breath caught in his throat in a sudden panic as she raised a shaking, outstretched hand towards the angel. No. No! Cas was still in there!

"I have had quite enough of you, nephew."

And then she yanked her arm backwards, pulling a familiar light out of Cas' vessel, black and red splotches splintering across his face as the angel screamed, until it smoothed out again and the vessel slumped backwards, lifeless.

Dean's heart shattered into a million pieces.

No.

No, no, no, no!

Cas couldn't be gone. He couldn't be -

No!

He didn't remember the sound of his own agony bleeding into his ears, the plea, the outcry, of "CAS!" or the lifting of the First Blade in his hand as he charged Amara with everything he had.

All he knew was that he was going to kill her. It was going to work. He was going to rip her apart and burn and destroy whatever was left.

The First Blade was powered by the Mark. It was powered by the very thing, the very curse, that had the power to trap her for so, so long. It was enough, Dean was enough, to end her existence.

And he didn't hesitate to get his revenge -

But, impossibly, before the tip of the blade found its mark, Dean was suddenly frozen in place and launched backwards onto the altar's steps as the front doors of the church were thrown open with a booming, resounding, crack.

"ENOUGH!"

Time stopped.

The candles' flames stood stock still, and the storm raging outside the stone walls lurched to a sudden halt.

Sam and Bucky were frozen in shock, crumpled shoulder to shoulder against the far wall with matching expressions of disbelief. Rollins was unconscious from Amara's attack, possibly even dead, and Rumlow had been thrown somewhere behind Dean. Dean was able to watch the events before him unfold in horror, but his body was suspended in place, unable to move, blink, or breathe.

Standing in the doorway in a silhouette of light, completely drenched from head to toe, was Chuck Shirley. He wore jeans that were too tight and a soaking white shirt covered with a green and red hoodie, while his curls dripped water onto the broken tile floor.

"I said, enough," he repeated, softer, but no less forceful.

The only other person in the room who possessed the ability to move was Amara, who watched the newcomer with unequivocal rage.

"Hello, Brother," Amara rasped, causing Dean's brain to short out.

Chuck.

The prophet Chuck Shirley, who wrote all of the supernatural books, drank too much, slept in his bathrobe and chased after that lunatic Becky Rozen, was Amara's brother.

God.

What the actual fuck.

He strode forward with more confidence than Dean had imagined Chuck could ever possess, stopping just short of his sister. He looked down at Amara, an unreadable expression on his face, while the tension solidified in the air and threatened to choke them all.

And then Chuck - God - fell to his knees with slumped shoulders so that he could look his sister in the eye. "I am so, so sorry. For this. For everything."

Amara grunted, the pain from the Horn of Joshua still rippling through her veins. "An apology at last." She shook her head in irritation and snarled, "What's sorry to me, after all this time, brother? I spent billions of years crammed into that cage, alone, and afraid. Wishing, begging for death because of you! And what was my crime? Having the audacity to question you? To believe that you were making a mistake in creating the archangels? They were worthless, brother! Needy, mindless, unable to think for themselves!" Her shoulders trembled in a quiet rage. "And then you wanted to take everything a step further. You refused to be happy with just me, and even your angels weren't enough. You wanted to throw away everything we had for insignificant cretins!"

"The world needed to be born, Amara!" He thundered, shaking the very foundation of the church. "And you wouldn't let me!" Chuck took a deep breath and ran a trembling hand through his mop of wet curls in an obvious attempt to dispel his anger.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "But I know, I know that the other reason why you couldn't be allowed to exist was because I couldn't stand it. You and I are equals, Amara. We're great, we're powerful because we stood only in relation to each other. I created the Archangels because I needed to be large, to be Lord. It was my ego, I'm not too blinded to see that now. After everything."

Chuck brought his bright blue eyes up to meet Amara's dark ones, and reached out to take her hand. Amazingly, she seemed too shocked at his apology to snatch it away. "But that wasn't the whole truth. There was value, glory, in creation, that was greater and truer than my pride or my ego. Call it grace, call it being, whatever it is, it didn't come from my hand! It was there, waiting to be born! It just is, as you and I just were. Since you've been freed I know that you've seen it," he paused, glancing towards Dean, and her gaze followed. "Felt it."

"I desperately wanted to show you, to help you see that there could be things other than just ourselves. When you refused to listen, I thought locking you away was the only option. I've hated the decision that I made the moment you were gone, but I was stubborn. I believed that I was right, because I had to be. If I considered for even a moment that I was wrong, then that would mean I wasn't as all powerful as I believed myself to be."

Chuck squeezed his eyes shut. "I didn't come until now because I was a coward. I wasn't ready to face you, to admit that I'd made a mistake." When he opened his eyes again, they were shining. "But I'm ready now. I know you're furious with me, I know what I did was monstrous. But is there any possible way you can find it in your heart to forgive me?"

Amara was utterly silent as she brought her attention back to Dean, studying his face for what seemed like an eternity. Her lip quivered as she took a few steadying breaths and looked back towards Chuck. "It didn't have to be like this, brother. I loved you. Fiercely, with everything I had. And you betrayed me. You want me to forgive you for leaving me in endless darkness, alone. Tell me, how can I even begin to trust you again?"

Chuck nodded, guilt and anguish twisted onto his face as a single tear tracked down his cheek. "And I you, sister. Words could never express how sorry I am, how much I wish I could take it all back. All I can ask for is your forgiveness, and an eternity of making it up to you."

The world fell silent as the two beings stared at one another.

Seconds trickled into minutes, and still the world was quiet around them.

Finally, Amara erupted into sobs and threw herself into her brother's arms. The world was plunged back into motion, the storm giving one final crack of lightning before it was soothed. Dean and the other bystanders gasped as their movement was restored.

Chuck buried his face into the crook of his sister's neck and held her tightly, smothering his own cries. They stayed like that for what seemed like ages, before pulling backwards and wiping their tears with the back of their hands.

He let out a wet chuckle and forced himself up to his feet before holding out a hand to help Amara up. "Let's go home, sister."

She beamed at him, looking infinitely lighter and more ethereal. In an instant they were both dry again and Amara was fully whole, not a single scratch to be found. A bright light enveloped them, enough to make Dean shield his eyes with his arm. Chuck steered them gently towards the entryway, nodding towards Dean and Sam meaningfully before leading his sister outside into the world bathed in the setting sun.

Between one moment and the next, the two beings disappeared, leaving the sanctuary hushed and utterly still.

The seconds ticked into minutes until a heaving cough broke the spell, snaring Dean's attention.

Cas.

Cas was alive.

Pure, unadulterated joy filled Dean to the brim as he staggered forward with a choked gasp, ready to pull his boyfriend into his arms where he belonged and taste his lips again and again and again and never stop because Cas was alive!

The angel's eyes cleared after a moment and zeroed in on Dean's face with the familiar expression of utmost love and steadfast devotion, until it suddenly shuddered into a look of horror.

Dean couldn't decipher what he could have possibly been scared of, because he was alive dammit, until something pierced him from behind, stealing the very breath from his lungs, shoving all the way through his ribcage and out through his chest.

He stared down at the knife protruding from him without comprehension.

And then the world descended into blood and chaos and darkness once more as his vision narrowed to Cas' face. Only Cas. The man he loved, and thought he would spend his life with. That he foolishly believed he'd been given a second chance with. "Cas," he rasped, reaching out weakly towards his angel.

Lips touched his ear, his murderer sending him to Hell with one last message.

"Hail Hydra. Hail Satan."

XX

Note: Eek, sorry for the cliffhanger, but the final chapter will come out soon. And don't worry, I'm a sucker for happy endings.

I found that quote about love on Pinterest, and couldn't for the life of me find its source besides "S.L.". I adore it. Also, I love Teen Wolf, and Stiles Stilinski is still one of my favorite fictional characters in case anyone caught the reference.

Thanks for reading, and I'd really love to hear your thoughts.